


a home in the fog

by sevenfoxes



Category: Fast & Furious 6 (2013), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Amnesia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfoxes/pseuds/sevenfoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years she's spent with him, she's learned almost nothing about him, only that he has a brother that he hasn't spoken with in nearly six years and he likes a little pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a home in the fog

**Author's Note:**

> Written on [tumblr](http://sevensneakyfoxes.tumblr.com/post/52428879840/the-first-time-they-arrive-in-london-its).

The first time they arrive in London, it's raining. It's their first stop after San Diego and Letty misses the heat already. Shaw hadn't given any reason for their swift departure from the States, but she assumes it has to do with whatever dealings he had with the cartel.

(With Shaw there are never answers. Only questions you learn to live with.)

"Feel familiar?" Shaw asks as Treylan shifts past them, barking orders at the pilot in Russian.

Sometimes she can't tell if Shaw is toying with her or teasing her, but what she has learned is that he likes a fight. He stares at her while she plays with the small dogtag he had gotten her back in the states, L E T T Y printed in large block letters on a simple silver bar. She almost always keeps it tucked into her shirt, against the skin of the breast, hidden.

"No," Letty says, and watches as the side of his mouth tips up, a huff of laughter at her expense escaping from it as he turns to peer out at the foggy London weather awaiting them.

 

 

\--

 

 

Most of Shaw's safehouses are just south of extravagant. The garages are always dirty, hidden in the industrial area of whatever city they're pulling their next job in, but Shaw likes to live in comfort. Whatever crew they're using usually holes up in one of the more decent hotels in the city, but Shaw likes rent-by-the-month mansions where agents know better than to ask questions with the kind of money he pays exchanging hands.

No one stays with Shaw. This is the rule.

(Letty's never been good at following the rules.)

In the years she's spent with him, she's learned almost nothing about him, only that he has a brother that he hasn't spoken with in nearly six years and he likes a little pain. She leaves marks, digs her nail into flesh, bites hard enough to leave bruises that she's sure the other members of the crew sees.

This time he's fucking her on the ridiculously large bed of the place he's renting in Madrid. He's got his hand wrapped around her dogtag, the chain biting into the back of her neck hard enough that it smarts.

"Mine," he says, his breath strained in a way that lets her know he's close.

Letty shakes her head and the look that flashes across his face is one of pure fury, unrestrained. "No," she repeats when his hips slam into hers harder, a punishment. She sets her nails into his side hard enough that he lets out a strangled moan, his hips losing all rhythm, his body collapsing onto her as he comes.

(She belongs to no one.)

 

 

\--

 

 

"Aren't you ever curious?"

(He likes her, she thinks, because he doesn't understand her. She can see it when he asks her shit like this, when he tries to figure out why she doesn't ask questions that she knows he won't fucking answer anyway. There aren't many things that make Owen Shaw curious, but this does. She does.)

(He just doesn't understand. No one came looking for her.)

"No."

 

 

\--

 

 

"Feel like home yet?" Shaw asks this time, the private plane they just disembarked from taxiing toward the hanger set north of the runway. It's raining again, a light drizzle that makes everything look grey. Fucking London.

The cold still makes her uneasy. Too wet. She misses the sun. She misses sand and the smell of hotdogs and bad Mexican food. "No."

Shaw turns his head over his shoulder to look at her, the lapel of the leather jacket he's wearing catching in the wind. His eyes drift to the chain stretched across Letty's collarbone, the dog tag hidden below her shirt.

"It will. Eventually."

(It won't.)


End file.
